


Cover 3: Mini-van

by SensationalSista



Series: Dixie Cups [3]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Children, F/F, Flirting, Fluff, overt come-ons, so much friggin fluff, you can't handle the fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 16:23:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6964168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SensationalSista/pseuds/SensationalSista
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the fall of Samaritan (and everyone's alive and well), the Machine allows for Shaw to follow in Root’s steps, going through identities “like dixie cups”. But her many undercover guises never seem to protect her from Root’s snooping flirtation. Fluff filled one-shot collection.<br/>Shaw's cover identity #3: Pre-school Teacher</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cover 3: Mini-van

**Author's Note:**

> This series is essentially a collection of Shoot one-shots with maybe 5-10% continuity throughout each installment.
> 
> This installment was very sickeningly fluffy and all too fun to write. Basically this was going off of a tumblr head-cannon that Shaw (deep deep deep deep down) has an unknowing soft spot for children. Enjoy exuding amounts of silliness.

Shaw sighed, trying her best to ignore the mixed smell of disinfectant, peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, and a myriad of germs. It was not every day that she walked into a pre-school, nor had a badge saying she _worked_ at one. Honestly, she'd not set foot in one since she did her own time in them some three decades ago. The colorful unicorn throw-up on the walls still seemed appropriate from what she could remember. Kids liked bright and colorful things, at least she assumed so. She considered opening the windows to get rid of the slowly nauseating smell, but goodness forbid she left the room and some spawn chose to play escape artist. Did they do that sort of thing? Honestly, she had no idea.

 _Why a pre-school teacher?_ she found herself wondering while giving yet another sickened grimace toward a couple taking photos while dropping off their kid for his first day. She had to look away and force her attention on the principal’s note on her desk, alerting her that she no longer had a teaching assistant as of today. She was literally going to be responsible for watching all of these human spawn, alone, to get intel on her number.

  _Is the Machine just screwing with me now?_ She had crumpled the note in frustration and thrown it into the trash as she finished watching the photography family finally leave. She gave an awkward wave with her fingers as the kid shuffled into the classroom, blissfully ignorant to the unamused leer that followed his prancing steps. _A rock has more maternal instinct than me for God’s sake.. Why couldn't Root have this cover? Or John or Harold even! Didn't they take care of a baby once? Oh,this is going to be absolute Hell._

As individual parents came and went, and Shaw closed the door (in quite a few of their faces), she would bend down to the new arrival. She gave them a lowdown of how the day was going to roll. There were two activities planned: 1. Play in the back in the carpeted play room, and 2. stay playing in the back until lunch when the parents picked them up.

However, despite all things considered in her current unfortunate cover, she felt she was managing well for herself. So far, she was down one teaching assistant, 10 kids deep in the class, and already 15 minutes into her morning. Not a single issue other than the occasional ear piercing squeals of delight that left her cochlea reverberating for a few painful seconds. She wasn’t sure how much of _that_ she was going to be able to stand, but so far no blood had trickled from her ears, so that was a plus.

She looked at her watch, knowing that her number had yet to show up. She had to be along soon, or else this whole cover was going to be a waste. But before Shaw could finish the thought, hurried clicks of stiletto heels came bounding up the short hallway; a knock resounding loudly in the spacious room.

Shaw jumped forward, hand slipping into her pocket where she had her usual tracking gadgets and cell phone. This would be her final arrival, if her roster served to be correct. She grabbed the handle of the door, plastering her forced smile on yet again, and ready for the usual baby-talk filled good-byes.

“This is Dyson. Sorry, but I’m late for a meeting.”

There was no room left for any other words or actions.

Shaw barely had a chance to even get a look at the woman in her doorway, long wavy blonde curls falling over a business suit jacket with icy blue eyes and a pale complexion, before a 35 pound bundle of joy was shoved into her arms; crying and screaming loudly, his dark tanned skin turned red in the face.

 Her attention was brought to the tear stained face of the child for just a shell-shocked moment before she looked up again. But the guardian was already gone.

 _God dammit_ , she cursed internally. She did not even have a chance to bug or sync the woman’s phone. She knew that this was her number. Even with that brief once over, the woman looked identical to the LinkedIn image that Harold had texted to her.

Shaw swiftly dodged two running kids, hopped over a Playschool craft table, and slid along the windowsill, all while clutching the tiny child against her hip like a mother koala bear. She pressed her shoulder up against the window, cursing that she had not thought to open the damned things earlier.

She had a clear visual of the gray mini-van parked outside where the woman, Amelia Burns, head CEO of TechOne Services, angrily waved her pocketbook at who Shaw assumed was the woman’s husband. The man, tall with a muscular build, buzzed hairline, skin ebony and contrasting against the petite business woman’s own ivory tone, slammed the sliding backdoor shut before taking a defensive stance. He crossed his arms over his torso.

Her number continued to ramble on loudly, producing muffled words which the man just deflected with a roll of the eyes and a lull of his neck before joining in with his own angry shouts; all intelligibility in their words completely dampened by the near sound proof windows.

Awkwardly reaching into her pocket for her phone, Shaw tried to angle herself in the direction of the bickering couple. The device attempted to synchronize however the spinning circle indicated a failed sync two times. She was just a few feet out of range. Shaw watched in frustration as the two people, still in heated debate, climbed into the vehicle and screechingly peeled out of the parking lot (which looked much less cool than it sounded given that it was done in a mini-van).

 _Are you shitting me? How could I let_ that _slip away?!_ She groaned loudly, disappointed at herself for letting such a simple the catch escape, smacking her head back against the window so hard she distantly wondered if she cracked it. It was going to be a long time until the parents came back for the noon dismissal.

Finally coming back to the reality of her situation, Shaw realized that the immediate loudness previously blaring in her ear had disappeared, replaced with soft whimpers. Her dark eyes fell down to the 4 year old still clutched at her side.

Large, tearful blue eyes stared up at her beneath thick eyelashes; residual crystal rivers still cascading over brown cheeks, dusted with a constellation of dark freckles. Shaw had to distantly acknowledge that, no matter how bitchy and awful this kid’s parents seemed, they truly produced the absolute most gorgeous bi-racial baby ever.

“Mommy and daddy are always mad.” Shaw watched as the boy’s eyes glanced back at the window, knowing that he had witnessed the argument at the car (though it was unfortunately probably not his first to witness).

Shaw sucked in a hesitant breath as the boy looked back up at her, eyes almost expectant and fearful. _Aw shit._ Shaw realized very quickly that the child was seeking comfort. She was definitely not the right person for that. Farthest from. Where was a stupid teaching assistant when she needed them to field such emotional things? She tried to smile nicely, although it must have come off as more of her usual grimace because the boy’s eyes began to well up again. His mouth opened and another stream of wails began to pour out.

_Crap crap crap, my ears can’t take much more of this!_

Shaw hopped off of the window sill and began walking over to a kiddie sized table. “Hey, hey now kid,” she said, hoping her voice had a softer edge to it than normal. It seemed to minutely get his attention, so she tried again; trepidation evident in her words. “Uh, um.. what’s your favorite..um..” Her eyes scanned the rainbow room before landing on the walls with labeled paint splotches. “.. color?”

To her relief, the little kid brightened, turning in the small plastic chair Shaw had plopped him into. “Ba-loo!”

Shaw felt a hint of a smile prick the corner of her lip seeing the immediate emotion change. As the anecdote went, his frown was turned upside down instantly. “Hey, mine too,” she said trying to add some form of excitement to the words, which were only partially true. Blue was her second favorite color. Black was first, if her wardrobe gave anything away. Black and blue always went well together, from her line of work’s experience.

Shaw reached into a nearby cubby and pulled out a large white construction paper, smoothing it out on the table. She then reached into her back pocket, grabbing out her sharpie marker. She was thankful that she had grabbed a lot of colorful markers earlier and had stuffed them in her pockets, just  because it seemed like something her cover might do. Quicker means to alleviate the situation at least.

“When I’m sad, I like to draw my, uh, feelings,” she said, exaggerating her tone just enough to sound believable to the pre-schooler who, unlike herself, felt much more of these so called ‘feelings’ than she did herself. But, she was beginning to realize it was relatively easy for her to appease these kids even with such simple reassurances. “You get to have Miss May’s favorite marker too. Draw something great.”

The little kid, Dyson, excitedly took the fat sharpie marker from her hand, tiny fingers grasping the seemingly massive object. “Tank you Miss May!”

Shaw hesitated a moment longer than necessary, watching the little boy begin to scrawl all over the page, before she stood upright and surveyed the other 10 children. All seemed to be playing nicely in the open carpeted playhouse area; only happy yelps and squeals coming as they enacted various situations and stories.

She placed her hands on her hips, somewhat proud that she had created such order in this facility with her minimal social abilities and even more limited knowledge of human youth. She mentally patted herself on the back for a job well done. Why did parents and teachers complain about kids begin so hard to manage?

A rather feminine throat clear, originating from behind her, entered the curves of her ear, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. Her fingers clenched the tops of her hips where they still rested; relaxed stance now stiffening as she stared upwards to the porous ceiling tiles. As if asking the AI God why on earth She would let her wonderful sociopathic asset suffer like this.

Finally, accepting her fate, Shaw turned 180 degrees toward her front classroom door. Leaned against the door frame, arms crossed across the business casual attire, the tall woman who haunted every aspect of her life was sending a highly amused smile in Shaw’s direction.

_Oh god, how long has she been standing there.._

“Root..” she growled, begrudgingly approaching the other woman across the room from the kids; dodging small tables, chairs, and building blocks along the way.

Her perky psycho pushed off of the door frame in a languid manner, reaching a hand into her shoulder bag, and retrieving a white paper stack. She offered it to the undercover pre-school teacher. Shaw snatched it gruffly, eyes scanning the organized typed information while Root spoke.

“I’m here to interview for the teaching assistant position that recently opened up in..” She looked over her shoulder quickly to the number on the classroom door, before looking back to Shaw with a confirming grin. “4B. Miss May, I presume?” Her heavy lashes fluttered playfully.

Shaw sneered, already tearing the papers two times down the center. _Oh, the irony,_ Shaw found herself thinking back to her initial thought coming into this cover, wishing she had extra help here. Instead, she opted to send the expectant and unwelcomed interviewee a smug smile.

“Actually, the position is closed. As you can see, I can manage things fine on my own.” She reached out and grabbed Root’s satchel forward, stuffing the shreds of paper back into it, not breaking her gaze from the tall woman. “Now please, go or else I’ll-“

“-Miss May!” screamed a high pitched voice, soon followed by more echoing the call as well as the feeling of minions latching onto her calves. She looked down to the tile floor to see 3 girls latched to her legs, practically falling on top of each other, and flanked by 4 more kids. Their large shining eyes were wide and looking up; chattering, little unfiltered mouths running at full force.

“Who dat?”

“Is she going to pa-lay?”

 “She’s pwetty!”

“Hi! Hi! Hi!”

Shaw’s eyes slid back up to Root's own sparkling ones across from her, looking down at the small kids with a.. _different_ type of smile.

Shaw felt her eyes widen a fraction in stupor, unfamiliar with seeing this sort of reaction expressed across Root’s face. It seemed almost.. Uncertain? Flustered? _Bashful?_ Since when did the psycho reformed killer for hire get _bashful_?! Shaw could only mull over the thought for a few seconds before Root looked back up her, expression morphing back into a coy one that the Persian was more acclimated to. Shaw forced her fascination aside, hardening her stare.

“Oh, children, I don’t think I can play..” Her eyes locked with Shaw’s, an evil glint in the corner which made Shaw frown deeper, her own hard eyes screaming _Don’t you dare, Root.._ “Miss May doesn’t seem to want me here.” Shaw gritted her teeth as Root did exactly what she expected; using feigned disappointment to turn her kids against her.

And within seconds, Shaw’s perfect army of well behaved pre-schoolers switched sides in this battle. Somehow, all 11 kids had now swarmed into their little corner, all of them forming a tantrum induced barrier in front of Root. Eyes tearing, mouths screaming. Oh it was an awful orchestra straight from Hell.. and Root was the damned conductor!

Shaw had to hold back the harsh string of curses and rude names that she was ready to fire at the woman, but even she had enough class to not use words that distasteful in the presence of children.  The toothy, winning smile she received was topped off with a sweet tilt of her brunette head.

Shaw finally threw up her arms with a loud huff rumbling from her throat; the rather controlled outburst for Shaw still startling the group of kids a little bit. But her words of “Fine, _Miss Root_ can stay” appeased the masses.

She actively ignored the insulted face Root sent her way. Whatever. Shaw could care less about continuity of whatever identity the woman had planned out. She hadn’t bothered to even check the header on that phony resume. But Root was on her playing field now. And Shaw intended for it to stay that way as long as possible.

Minutes later found the kids enjoying themselves in the play area again, almost completely forgetting about the new stranger who stood at the front of the room with their teacher; both sets of eyes acting as surveillance to their behavior, not unlike the AI surveillance constantly surrounding them anyway.

“I never pegged you for a kid person, Sweetie,” said Root in a doting tone as both women leaned against the large front desk, bodies facing the play area. "So domestic."

“I’m not,” instantly shot back the short teacher, arms crossed against her torso. “So, what’s your actual reason for being here this time? Pretty sure the coincidence for needing a teaching assistant position filled has your robot over lord written all over it.”

Aside from the dry eye-roll accompanying it, a thoughtful hum came from beside her. “I’m still waiting on that information..” She lulled her head to the side in a lazy manner, looking at her colleague’s side profile. “You?”

Shaw engaged in the work based discussion readily, hand raising to the kid who was back to scribbling at the desk. “See that kid, Dyson? His mom’s my number. Looked like a rocky marriage case on both sides. Honestly, no idea who is more of a threat to who.”

Shaw felt the friendly gaze leave her side profile for a moment as she sat in thought. Her voice lacked its usual level of disinterest and detachment toward the case. It wasn’t even the mechanical processing of what her number’s involvement could be, or what useful intel she could provide for the Machine.

No. Shaw found herself absentmindedly recalling the little boy’s voice when describing his family; a family that he should be lucky to have. But those damn parents are ruining it for the innocent child. Ruining his perception of what a good family could provide him with. Obviously, just because you are born of blood relation does not mean that you are a family. She found herself hoping that, one day, this boy could find something akin to a safe family-like support system, just with friends and colleagues..

  _A loyal brother like John, a funny cousin like Lionel, a concerned father figure like Harold.._ She found herself internally smirking at her thoughts as they continued down a reference list to her own life. _But hopefully he’ll find someone less annoying than Root._

She was not sure how long she had been contemplating these strange, albeit domestic thoughts, but she blinked, all of a sudden feeling the searing warmth of eyes boring into her skull.

“What?” she barked, narrowly side glancing in her only move to acknowledge the other woman.

“Why Sameen.. You have a soft spot for him.” Shaw scoffed as Root’s sugary sweet tone went on, voice sly and dissecting. “You are looking at him in a way that rivals how you look at Bear.”

“I’m thinking about my case!” Her breath huffed angrily as she pushed off the desk and made her way to the window, seemingly displaced behavior to just garner some distance between her and the way too observant hacker. She knew she was on the defensive, scolding herself for indulging on any of that sappy family shit. “Don’t you ever insult Bear like that.”

She pulled her phone out of her pocket, only re-confirming once again that she had missed her opportunity to connect to the lady’s, or her husband’s, wireless options. Root had somehow made her way over to Shaw’s form and, although Shaw did not look up, she knew that the teasing smirk from earlier was still slapped across her face _. And I’m about ready to slap it off if she doesn’t back away.._

Shaw briefly held up her phone for the hacker to see the failed attempt, acting as an update on her case status. The brunette leaned back on her heels, overtly aware that Shaw was purposefully avoiding looking at her.

“So we’ll make sure to get that connected first thing at pick-up time.” Her voice had some form of reassurance, as if Shaw was looking for some condolence for missing her target this morning.

She was not.

Quickened patter of feet came rushing over to the teacher; a child yelling while pointing over her shoulder to another group of crying kids, “Miss May! CJ peed his pants!”

The adult’s eyes looked to a blushing and tearful blonde boy standing in the play room, pants noticeably growing darker.

 _Aw gross_ , Shaw thought on instinct and began to step into the fray to amend the problem, when another kid stumbled over, blood from a scratch trickling down the little girl’s forehead. She clutched Shaw’s leg with a death grip as she screamed incoherently. Another kid appeared beside her, anxiously yanking her t-shirt hem to gain attention. _Oh, for Christ's sake, come on!_

“My, you _sure do_ manage things fine on your own,” came the teasing voice from the woman behind her, obviously taking glee in Shaw’s sudden change in orderliness.

Shaw rolled her eyes in annoyance, the loudness filling the room becoming more disorienting to her ears than an ultra sonic grenade. In an aggressive swoop, the bleeding child was in her arms, firm free hand grabbing the wrist of the other child beside her and she spun to the amused woman.

“You looking for the position? You’re hired,” Shaw sneered, jolting her jaw over her shoulder. “Job number one: CJ.”

Without a further words exchanged, Shaw twirled and speedily made her way to the other side of the room, pulling a blue and red med kit out of the closet shelves. She had the two children sit side by side in the coverage of the closet area, both crying hysterically although only one seemed to be physically injured.

She handed a tissue to the one who seemed to be in tears from the mere trauma of the situation ( _Weakling_ ), and began treating the other’s forehead wound with some Neosporin and a Thomas the Train Engine bandaid. She mused that she wished she had her usual make-shift alcohol based disinfectant. _A cold shot of whiskey sounds so good right about now._

In mere minutes, she had calmed her kids and let out a breath. Crisis number one, avoided. The noise in the room seemed to have diminished, at least slightly. She was about to close up the med kit when her attention was yanked away.

It was the out of place cry of distress that caught her attention.

Shaw was on her feet in an instant, hands anxiously reaching toward her pocket where she had a switchblade stowed away for emergencies (her usual piece had been forgone per Harold’s ‘child-safety’ recommendation the day before). That very frequency of fear radiating from the woman’s voice always constricted Shaw’s heart; a scream that haunted her nightmares and always dragged out her most primal protective instincts.

As she stood, taut and ready to move into whatever danger could have appeared in the innocent classroom setting, her eyes fell on the scene before her.

_Oh. My. God.._

“Shaw, help!” Root stood awkwardly with one leg outstretched, children hanging off it like monkey’s, two others holding on to her only anchored leg while making it impossible for her to walk. A pair of girls were excitedly pulling her sleeve sideways, trying to get Root out of the ‘ _prettyful_ ’ jacket that she was still wearing. Tucked under her other arm, backwards with his head slowly tilting further and further downwards, was the little boy in great need of a change.

And now it all made sense why the Machine had chosen not to give this cover to Root.

Shaw stood, shoulders relaxing taking in the hilarious scene playing out. In any other situation, Shaw figured that she would be insulted at just how horribly someone was managing (and _holding_ for crying out loud) children. Not even the worst parent, on their worst day, should be that easily apprehended. But seeing Root almost literally juggling kids was just.. priceless. Shaw basically began counting the seconds before Root would lose her balance and come crashing down. Oh, her smirk was positively devilish.

“Shaw!” cried the helpless woman once more before caving and toppling to the floor, like a sky scraper being demolished.

The undercover agent made her way over to the circle of onlookers forming around the crumpled woman, who thankfully had enough mindset to move the dangling boy toward her chest or else she would have landed right on him.

Shaw squatted down so she was at the height of her kids, smirking down as Root opened her pained eyes. She looked at the triumphant woman angled above her and she wrinkled her nose, very displeased with the turn of events.

“I thought you were a Nanny,” Shaw goaded, quirking an eyebrow in time with her smug lip.

“Once, and it’s obvious why She never placed me as one again. Thank God,” Root huffed in mild embarrassment, tiny eye roll escaping her. Suddenly the guise was broken and Root’s severe lack of child skills was revealed. And it was even worse than Shaw’s. Oh this information was too good to be true.

The undercover teacher shook her head in feigned disappointment. “If you don’t like kids, you shouldn’t have put it on your resume, then.”

Root rolled her eyes more dramatically this time, pushing herself up into a seated position as the boy sat next to her, eyes still teary and clearly uncomfortable in his wet pants. Shaw reached over, scooping the 4 year old up and into her arms, careful to avoid the wet pants as able, before looking back at the group.

“Kids. Miss Root did a very bad thing.” This caused all attention to be on her, Root’s eyes widening in shock and slowly falling into a low glare as Shaw continued. “She _lied_.” The resounding low “oooo” that immediately followed had the hacker’s face turning scarlet under the scrutiny of the pre-K crowd. Shaw grinned around at her minion army, a sense of pride swelling inside her. “Take her to time-out.”

With a raise of her finger to a tiny stool in the corner of the room, all the kids practically tackled into Root and both rolled and pulled her towards it.

Shaw smirked and quickly headed into the attached washroom to change the boy’s clothes.

-

“ _Sameen_..!”

Shaw turned her gaze toward the whine originating from the largest _child_ in the room. Root still sat seated on the small wooden stool on the far side of the play area; her elbows resting on her knees, chin in her palms. She looked rather ridiculous; a woman nearly 5’9” seated scrunched up on a stool not even a foot tall.

Shaw’s lovely Pre-K army had done wonders; her child prodigy, Dyson, independently delegating who was in charge of playing ‘babysitter’(or prison guard) with Root.

She was actually bursting with pride by now, especially knowing that after nearly 3 hours of being seated on the small wooden seat, Root’s ass was going to hurt worse than at an overnight stakeout.

“No talking in time-out,” Shaw casually called back over her shoulder as she sat at a table, finding some amusement in building up blocks and smacking them down; much to her play pals’ enjoyment. She could distantly hear the voice of CJ, the current guard on watch, repeat her words to their captive.

“Yeah, Miss May say ‘No talkin’ in time out’!”

_So damn proud._

A knock came from the door which Shaw hurriedly hopped up to answer, absentmindedly checking on her number’s kid who once more sat doodling away intensely at his desk; sharpie in hand.

It was time for the parents to start arriving, taking the kids home for lunch from the half-day pre-K program. Unfortunately, her number was not first to come, although after seeing the parenting style from this morning she was far from surprised that her number would wasn't on time.  

Shaw called over a kid and waved off the first batch and she had to admit that, for once, her cover had not felt like eons to get through. Granted, it was only 3 hours worth of time for one day… Not like her long hours put into the last ones. Shaw’s fuse for patience was quite short on a normal day.

After a while, she noticed the parents’ arriving began to send questioning looks to the teaching assistant seated on the small stool, surrounded by a blockade of large leggos and aggressive teddy bears. Shaw shrugged it off, eyes landing on Root. “Cops and robbers.” She shared a knowing grin with the pouting brunette. “The kids learned today that being naughty gets you sent to jail.”

The continued come and go of parents and guardians did not seem interested in questioning the learning activity, which Shaw was grateful for. When the families were out of ear shot, behind the closed door, her prisoner unabashedly called out across the nearly empty classroom, “Being naughty also gets you sent to _my_ room, Sweetie.”

Just as she was ready to add a retort to Root’s brazen overt come-on and wipe the salacious grin spreading over her cheeks, Shaw’s little guard did it for her. CJ stepped up to levelly face Root’s now surprised expression, pudgy hands on his little hips.

“No talkin’ in time-out!” Shaw meandered over to the prison cell and patted his head, not unlike how she did with Bear.

“Good boy.”

After her commending compliment, a man tucked his head into the nearly deserted classroom; the subtle peripheral movement putting Shaw on high alert. _Amelia’s husband_ , Shaw realized. The father caught Shaw’s eye as she looked over her shoulder, pantomime motion to bring his son over. However, the professionally dressed man was quickly interrupted by a phone call. He ducked his head back out of the room without further explanation.

Shaw was up and moving forward with haste, hand moving to grab her phone from her back pocket. She was at least going to get a foothold in her case this way. Just as she was pulling her arm back around, a tiny hand latched onto her hand and inadvertently, the phone.  The momentum of Shaw’s taut musculature against the downwards pull acted like a slingshot and the gold cased phone suddenly went flying into the air. It clattered on the tiles, sliding beneath the teacher’s desk.

“Shit!” she hissed out, louder than expected, before snapping annoyed eyes back down to two large blue orbs. Under those orbs was a small smile, obviously ignorant to the mission that he had just apprehended.

“Mommy says tat’s a bad word,” he tells her. Nostrils flaring in aggravation, even at her prodigy child, Shaw has to bite back the bitter “what do you want” that was quickly forming on her tongue.

Dyson lifted up his small backpack, lots of big construction papers sticking out. Kid must have had a lot of feelings to work out. He finally selected a light blue sheet, pulling it from the bag with a dry chafing sound, and finally handed it up to his teacher.

With a momentary hesitance, mind considering on how she would use plan B and get a tracker on the boy’s father, Shaw roughly took the paper and eyed the scribbles. She could almost make out two big figures (potentially people), another blob scribbled to the side with 5 lines through it, and lots of circles around the outside. Although completing her mission was still in the forefront of her mind, something latched onto her heart, pulling her body down to crouch at his level.

“You made it for me?” she asked, noticing that the image was done in the blue sharpie she had given him earlier.

Dyson nodded before reaching over to describe his masterpiece. “Tis is me,” he said pointing to one of the big blobs. “Tis is you.” He pointed to the slightly taller blob, now seeing the ponytail jutting out to the side. Knowing that these were people, she could interpret her holding his hand and something stirred in her stomach that made her almost feel nauseous, but not in the sick way. It was really weird. She couldn’t decide if it was a good or nasty feeling.

“And this?” she asked pointing to the other blob. She felt compelled to ask, wanting to know all of the details within this picture for some reason. A silly smiled popped across the boy’s cheeks and he knelt close to Shaw’s ear and whispered. She felt her jaw unhinge at the words.

“Dyson, your father is here,” came Root’s polite voice from behind her, interrupting her thoughts.

The little boy jumped back and adjusted his backpack on his small shoulders before catching Shaw in a wide arm hug, almost knocking the shocked petite woman to her butt. Awkwardly, she patted his back once.

“Uh, keep up the artwork, squirt,” she mustered somehow, unsure where that saying even came from. She stood as the kid rushed out into the hall, door swinging shut behind him.

As it clicked shut, Shaw was ripped from her daze, remembering the task she had to complete. “Aw shit, I need to go after him!” She raced to the table, practically diving onto the floor for her phone. But as she threw her arm under the dusty desk, she realized that it wasn’t where she had last seen it.. Thoughts of one of her children taking and breaking the phone crossed her mind for a moment before she heard steps land beside her prone body.

“I figured out what my mission was,” said Root proudly, laughter in her voice as she waved the phone in her hand. “Insurance.”

As Shaw processed the information, Root handed her the gold cased phone; green circle blinking with successful connection. Somehow, Root must have managed to get close enough to sync the devices.

 _She had to help me because that little shit was enough to interfere with completing my mission.._ No matter how much it sucked to realize all of that, Shaw had to commend the little sprout. But not Root. Dammit all to Hell, Root.

She stood up and brushed past Root roughly, knocking their shoulders. Root pouted, trailing obscenely close behind the grumpy teacher.

“You should be a little more appreciative of the backup.” She was smiling in the words, head tilting forward in the slightest to breathe down the teacher’s neck. “The little guard had released me just in time for good behavior.”

“You’re on monitored parole, at best,” Shaw muttered.

“I wouldn’t mind if it’s you monitoring me. I don’t know how long I can keep a good streak before I get naughty again.” She punctuated her line by reaching out her hand and full on groping Shaw’s ass with a tight squeeze.

Shaw whipped her hand around and grabbed Root’s wrist, twisting it hard. “I am going to end you,” she seethed in an almost obvious bluff, before continuing over to stuff her gift into her backpack. She could hear the curiosity coming from the woman still managing to stay superglued at her side.

Shaw crouched down to her bag.

“Whatcha got there, Sweetie?” she said, bending down to lean her chin on the shorter woman’s shoulder to look at the drawing. After roughly shoving her off, Shaw held up the paper.

A sardonic smile appeared at the corner of her lips. “That’s Dyson. That’s me.” She pointed dramatically. “And this blob, sitting in the corner with bars around it, is our class pet: Miss Root.”

The tall woman stood upright, gasp of appall leaving her lips. She shook her head, breath turning into a light chuckle. “Oh, that silly boy had it so wrong. If anyone’s a pet, you’re _mine_.” She reached out her hand again, daringly stroking down Shaw’s head while the agent was distracted.

Shaw sprang up in an instant, arms roughly grasping Root’s arms as she spun them around until the teaching assistant banged up against the wide seated window sill. Shaw snorted hotly as she bared her teeth in a deathly warning, body pressing firmly into Root’s causing the woman to inhale sharply.

“Never. Pet. Me.” Root only grinned wider at the reaction she had received, amber eyes now flickering between Shaw’s eyes and her snarling lips.

“Are you dancin’?” A queering voice piped up and the two women broke their heated gaze, dropping their eyes to the blonde boy who had popped up beside them.

Right. They still had one kid to go.

As Root attempted to stutter some response appropriate for a child, Shaw caught sight of a car pulling into the parking lot and the boy’s mother coming into the building.

She pushed away from Root and smoothed out her clothing as she made her way to the washroom. “Grab CJ and his backpack. I need to grab his clothes.”

When she came back into the room and walked toward the front door, her shoulders slouched as she looked at her infuriating colleague.

Root was holding the boy’s backpack handle up and extended out toward Shaw, as if handing it over.. with the boy dangling from it by his armpits.

Shaw rushed forward, cursing under her breath, as she swooped the boy up into her arms in an appropriate hold. She glared at the unconcerned hacker’s face, almost honestly not understanding how terrible she was with managing kids in even the most obvious of ways.

“We really need to work on your children skills,” Shaw frustratingly muttered as the boy’s mom opened the door. After a very brief discussion, Shaw closed the door with a tired sigh. The day was done. Now she could check to see if Mr. Burns had received any texts or phone calls in the past 10 minutes and actually get something productive from her case.

While pulling out her phone, she could feel Root’s hotty presence at her side.

“So was that your way of implying we should get a mini-van and then start having kids of our own?” Root sarcastically teased with a raise of her brow, smirk tugging the corner of her lip upwards at her blatant joke.

Shaw had begun to glance up, prepared to meet Root’s gaze with a dulled look, but her attention was grabbed by two message alerts on her phone.

The first being a rather romantic meet-up message from her number’s husband, sent to some other woman’s name; Katrina. _Alright, potential affair happening later today._ _Not too surprised at that one.._

She then checked her other text, coming from an unknown source. LEFT TOP DODGE 341EL44.   _Cryptic.. Oh, wait. Got it!_

She looked back up at the waiting woman, a smirk playing on her own lips now. She side stepped around the hacker, walking backward toward the desk with a purposeful saunter to her hips. Once she knew she had fully regained Root’s unwavering  attention to her body, Shaw dipped her hand into the left top drawer and retrieved a set of keys. She held up a set of keys and spun the chain around her finger.

“Huh. Well, looks like we already got our mini-van, so..” she flaunted, not breaking her hold on Root’s instantly paling expression as she reached for her backpack.

She found such amusement in the woman’s now known secret plight against children. She made her way back over to the pleasingly stock-stilled analogue interface. The power over the situation was intoxicating, and suddenly Shaw was feeling strangely emboldened.

She pushed herself into the frozen woman’s space, closing their distance until Root was pressed against the door and Shaw was flush against her chest; the brunette’s breath hitching at the turn of events. “Gotta few hours to kill,” Shaw hinted with provocation lacing in her voice. “Maybe we should start _trying_ for kids of our own.” She smirked at her not so subtle come-on causing Root’s bright eyes to widen. She scrunched her nose up with an evil glint in her dark eyes, amusement evident in her knowing satire. “ _Might_ take a lot of tries though..”

Root let out a light breath, and desperately tried to gather her bearings to form a reply sounding stronger than a whisper. “Now _that_ is an idea I can get behind.”


End file.
